It's starting to get to that uncomfortable level of heat in Buenos Aires. You sit in your place, unmoving, and you feel the sweat crawling down the side of your face; the body incubating within your minimalistic clothing feels clammy and sticky; it is more labouring to breathe the heavy air; you are always tired and lethargic and without energy or motivation to do anything; and every night brings with it an uneasy slumber of restlessness - tossing and turning as one suffers in the climatic oppression.
Two nights ago I was considering to spend a night under the stars, on the flat roof of my apartment complex. While surveying the area - before committing to the decision - a brisk gust of cool breeze embraced me with imaginary arms. I was immediately sold on the idea.
So for a few hours the stars whispered silent stories of happiness into my imagination as the wind blew a fresh blanket over my body. But my cosmic dreams were interrupted my some old friends - mosquitoes. Bloody mosquitoes!
"Goodbye stars. I'm going inside."